Soundwave- A Character Study
by Megan1289
Summary: A series of oneshots discussing Soundwave from the Aligned Continuity. Most take place during Prime. Strictly based in canon. No OCs or Pairings. Currently on permanent hiatus.
1. The Silent One

"What do you think is behind the. . ?" Starscream subtly gestured behind him.

Soundwave seemed to take no notice of the comment, or was to engrossed in his work to care.

Knockout eyed the third in command nervously. "Why do you ask?"

"I wanted to know your thoughts on the matter. Rumors have been running wild around the barracks lately. Stupid drones can't keep their mouthplates shut when they need to." Starscream said with a strange sort of dramatic flair.

Clearly, he wanted this to be public.

"So will you answer or not?" Starscream smiled.

"I. . ." Knockout paused, thinking over his word choice carefully.

"What do you think is under there?"

"I don't think there's anything left." He whispered.

Starscream raised an eyebrow. "What?"

Knockout turned around and quickly left the bridge, the doors closing silently behind him. If Starscream had tried to follow him, he took no mind.

He thought about what he had said. It was an odd thing to say, really. Normally he wasn't that observant, and definitely not that thoughtful. It had slipped out of his mouth.

It wasn't hard not to come to that conclusion. Even the dumbest of mechs could see just how _unusual_ Soundwave was.

He didn't interact with anyone. Except for accepting the occasional command from Megatron, he tried his hardest to seemingly ignore the rest of the crew. He didn't even speak, for crying out loud. Not even to Megatron.

Knockout had definitely met other quiet mechs. They weren't that uncommon. Most of them didn't talk a lot. A lot of them didn't show much emotion, either. But physically covering your face with a visor was a new level of "quiet". It was more. . . secretive.

Everything about Soundwave just oozed "secrecy". The visor, for one, was a major sign. But Knockout knew something that most people wouldn't; Soundwave had no medical file. Every person on board the Nemesis was _required_ to have a file. It contained all the things required for a medic to properly treat them in the (no matter how unlikely) case that they were injured. Soundwave didn't, and never had, such a file.

Soundwave never got out much, but that doesn't mean he was just _excused_ from mandatory medical information!

And everyone needs to interact socially with another living being some time, for the sake of sanity. Yet Soundwave seemed to be just fine.

Or was he?

All these signs pointed to a very broken mech underneath that visor.

Had he been different in the past? Did he ever have days of blinding glory, before the war tore his world apart? Did he ever openly call Megatron his leader, or even, a friend?

Did Soundwave, at some point, ever break? _Was_ there anything left of the mech that one was?

There was no wonder that many of the rumors flying around the Vehicon barracks were about Soundwave. He may have intended to blend in, but being so mysterious practically painted a bright neon sign on his visor screaming "Look at me! I'm an enigma!"

Almost like a riddle, waiting to be solved-

"Oof! Watch where you're going!" Knockout scolded the Vehicon who had bumped shoulders with him.

The Vehicon gave him a quick stare before running past him.

"Where are you going?" He called out after them, but they had disappeared.

Knockout looked around. He had been walking aimlessly through the halls for a while now. They all looked the same, and even though he had been on this ship for almost two months though, he was still getting lost in its many corridors.

Normally there were Vehicons constantly patrolling these halls. And the lighting wasn't normally this dim. . .

"Hey! Is this some sort of joke?" He called out, his voice ringing in the emptiness.

His doors twitched. He was being followed.

He spun around.

From the darkness, the sudden darkness that hung like mist around his head, he could pick out the shine of a black visor.

Soundwave approached slowly. Thoughtfully. Looking over every inch of him with a harsh stare.

"W-What do you want?" Knockout asked, and then cursed at himself for asking such a stupid question.

The visored mech stepped closer, cutting through the darkness.

"- _anything left_."

It was Knockout's voice, but he didn't say it.

"I-I. . ." Knockout could not reply.

Soundwave leaned in, his visor almost touching Knockout's face.

The sound of cut audio fizzed quietly.

 _"Don't. Question. Me."_

 __\Soundwave stepped back, and walked off down the hall. The lights slowly flickered back to life.

Knockout sank to the floor, shaking.


	2. Voice

**This is one of my earlier stories. As such, Soundwave may be a little out of character from different perspectives, especially since the writing is in first person.**

 **This story also fits into a theory of mine as to why all Cybertronians, especially the Decepticons, who despise humans, seem to be speaking English. I have some other stories that are not Soundwave-focused that discuss this further. I may post them later.**

I never talked very much in the first place.

I was the quiet assassin. Deadly, quick, and silent. It was my trademark.

If you didn't have a trademark, you were dead. If you weren't well known and famous, you were dead.

When I did speak, it would be to a certain few that were very close. Never in front of crowds.

My friend, your enemy, handled the crowds. He was a great speaker, back in the day. Good at inspiring people. Not out of fear. Not like you've known.

I was always beside him, towards the back, recording the speech. (Sometimes even supplying the words to him.)

I'm not nervous in front of crowds. In my world, if you broke down under pressure, you were dead. If you couldn't stand being in front of people, you were dead.

He's heard my voice. More than once. Actually, a lot of times. He was a good friend, and I trusted him.

I worked hard to keep his image clean. I was his manager- hard to believe, I know -and he needed me. He knew that.

They call me instrumental to his rise. They aren't wrong.

I watched him grow from a lowly gladiator to leader, fit for the people.

And I watched him fall.

I tried to pretend it wasn't happening. I tried to serve him as best as I could. Follow his orders, keep the troops in line, hope that it was just a phase.

I was wrong.

He was starting to suspect a traitor in the ranks. His suspicion lead to you. You know what happened next.

What you don't know is that I tried to lead him off you. I had found the traitor: a security officer in sector three. I took care of him and reported the removal of all opposition.

For the first time, he didn't believe me.

And the second, third, and fourth times followed.

I figured he must be questioning loyalties. I worked extra hard, paying no mind to my moral compass. I encouraged others to do the same. They never listened.

Then again, I slaughtered thousands. They did not.

But I'm still alive, and they are not.

He fell deeper into corruption, and I realized nothing I could do would stop it.

He began denouncing our culture, calling the ways of the old taboo.

Slowly he cut off our tradition. He burned data pads. Destroyed art. Desecrated graves of the holy.

He made himself a god by killing other gods.

I was just a mere mortal.

But I was still his most trusted. He talked to me, and often. But it had become delusional ramblings of a Mech craving power.

I did not speak; did not object. I listened.

He often shared his plans with me several orns before he acted on them. He planned a lot. Those who thought he acted off of pure whim were wrong.

Though one day he took things too far.

He wanted us to stop speaking our native tongue. He told me it was an inferior language of a dying world. We must change to survive.

He was very interested in a young planet, far away. One called Earth. He deemed their language as the new language of his empire.

And for the first time, I objected.

You are not the only one who has been beaten by one who you thought a leader.

He gave me an orn to learn the new language. I also knew he expected me to break the news to the troops.

I did.

But inside, I had made my own decision. This was the one order I would not follow.

And if that meant going completely silent, so be it.

No one noticed. No one cared. Why would they?

Some of the new recruits thought I never did talk in the first place. I find that humorous.

But he noticed.

Several times He tried to force me to speak. Each attempt failed.

I have remained silent. The Autobots might think they heard me. They were wrong.

And now they have cursed me to silence.

No, thank _you_ , Starscream. Thank you for listening. Even though you can't possibly hear me. . .


	3. Friends, What Are Those?

"I can understand and appreciate your silent nature, Soundwave. It is quite admirable. However, silence is not logical. Communication is an pertinent skill. Lack thereof impedes you service to Lord Megatron."

Soundwave said nothing. He didn't seem to be paying attention, either. Shockwave knew he was though. It would be illogical not to.

"Choosing to conceal your emotions is another wise decision. However, total silence is not necessary to achieve that illusion."

Soundwave shifted his weight. It was a normal gesture, a subtle acknowledgement of the scientist's comment.

"The visor you wear is a useful utility, as you have demonstrated time and time again. However, it obstructs social interaction, which is vital for your job in the Decepticon ranks. You are the communications officer aboard this ship. Yet you obstruct your most basic communication lines."

Soundwave's visor lit up. An audio file played.

 _"-Communication lines."_

 __Shockwave looked him in the eye, through the visor.

"Using audio files is an ingenious way to get around muteness, I do agree. However, I know that you are not mute. You are only making communication harder for yourself and others. I do not understand."

Soundwave looked away.

"There is no logical reason."

He nodded.

Shockwave paused. He looked down, and realized that he had stopped his work. This conversation had gone on far to long. He picked up his tools again and continued analyzing the Predacon bone.

An empty silence hung over the room as work continued.

"Soundwave, please calculate the meta-quasi stability of gene code thirteen four three."

A loading symbol appeared. A long string of numbers followed. Shockwave grunted in reply.

Something else flashed across the mech's visor. Words. Shockwave could barely catch what it said. He figured he wasn't supposed to.

 __Not enquiring further into Soundwave's personal decisions was completely logical. It was distracting from work. That was the only reason.

 _"Thank you."_

 __The only logical reason.


	4. If You Stare Into The Void

_. . . The void stares back into you._

There was a smiley emoji on Soundwave's visor that day.

Nobody had the courage to ask why. But everyone was looking.

Such a peculiar thing, that smiley face. A simple circle, with a curved line and two dashes on the inside. It was strange how such a small and insignificant thing could cause so much. . .

Fear.

That was the only proper name for it, anyway.

Even Megatron, commander of the Decepticon army, was intimidated. But the warlord wouldn't let some silly paranoia get the best of him.

"Soundwave."

The silent soldier walked towards him. The innocent blue emoji on his otherwise blank visor looked right through him.

"What is that on your visor?"

The empty stare from the picture was the only reply.

"Remove it."

The smile stayed, unblinking on the screen.

"That was an order."

Placid as ever, the emoticon remained.

"Soundwave!" Megatron snapped.

The face, the little, digitalized face, stared down the commander. The silence grew thick.

"I ordered you!" His voice rose. "Remove that distraction at once!"

Megatron forced himself to look beyond the empty smile and behind the visor, into whoever, or whatever, was challenging his authority.

Nothing. There was nothing. The blackness was all consuming.

And then something stared back.

It paralyzed him. The cold grip had no origin yet held his very spark in place. There was no emotion. There was no thought. Only silence.

And on top of it all, a cold, dead, smile


	5. The Lights Are Off

_The lights are off, but somebody's home._

Nobody seemed to notice that Soundwave had left his post that day. Probably because it was easy to imagine why.

Megatron, Lord Megatron, sat in stasis on a tilted medical berth. His chest moved softly up and down. Many tubes and cords of life support snaked in and out of his body. The only noise was that of a spark monitor, and an occasional, awkward cough from Knockout.

Soundwave paid no mind. Knockout would not, could not understand why he was here. Why he remained standing in front of his leader's nearly lifeless shell.

It hurt.

It hurt to see Lord Megatron this way. Once a proud leader, broken beyond repair. Sitting here. Twisted. Mangled. Scarred.

Soundwave looked away.

"Have you considered my offer?"

He turned to Knockout.

"Well?" The medic shriveled under his gaze.

That was the question. The single question. The question he could not bear to face.

 _"Leave."_ The audio recording fizzed quietly.

"But, I'm the medic-"

 _"Leave."_

 __Knockout gave an exasperated sigh, and left the medbay in a huff.

He stood in silence. He was unable to look back at Megatron. Lord Megatron.

The person he had dedicated his entire life to. The person with whom he had started the revolution with. The person who had dreamed of more than a life of slavery, deep in the pits of Cybertron. His leader. . .

. . . and friend.

A friend who might be now at the end of his life.

Soundwave had never bothered himself wondering about a future, a future where the war ended. That day seemed so far off, an unforeseeable future. But the reminder that now sat in front of him told him that that future was coming, and most likely soon.

What would he do?

Every breath he took, every battle he fought, all of it was for the Decepticon cause. All of the sacrifices he had made he made for Megatron, and Megatron alone. Without Megatron, would there be anything left?

Was there anything left of Megatron, though?

He opened his optics and looked one more time upon his leader's battered body. He gently rested his servo on a tube of life support.

Was there anything left?

He grasped it firmly. With the other servo, he ran his fingers over his Decepticon symbol. He took a deep breath.

And he let go.

In a burst of sudden anger, he picked up a vial and threw it against the wall. It shattered.

He turned and left the room.


	6. Soundwave's Command

**Author's note: thank you to all the people who caught that this story turned into the weird format that it did. Your feedback is appreciated!**

Megatron, formerly Galvatron, slave of Unicron, traveled.

He flew. Away. He did not care where. The stars were a vast and infinite place. With luck, no one would ever find him again.

But a sudden thought stopped him in his tracks:

 _Where was Soundwave?_

After all the warlord had been through, he'd never stopped to think about him.

The one who served so loyally.

So silently.

Megatron was so busy being dead he hadn't stopped to think about the price that Soundwave might have payed.

Did he. . . die for the cause?

The worthless Decepticon cause?

Megatron cursed.

Soundwave had to be more intelligent than that. . .

But loyalty can blind even the most intelligent of Mechs. That was something Megatron knew first-hand.

And it wasn't just with Decepticons. Autobots as well were capable of doing things beyond the call of duty if they were doing it for their cause.

Loyalty. . . causes. . . What were they? What was any of this about?

After this moment of pondering, Megatron continued to fly.

Not out to the stars, but back to Cybertron.

There were regrets he had to lay to rest.

He needed to make sure that no one ever died for his fruitless cause. The war was over. Starting with Starscream. . .

And ending when the last Decepticon surrendered or perished.

He had a long path ahead of him. A lot of worlds to find. A message to spread. But along his journey, he could feel something. A presence.

His spy was watching.  
Waiting.


End file.
